


Answers

by GlassRose



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassRose/pseuds/GlassRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack confronts the government of the "456".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Answers

**Author's Note:**

> Time: This fic takes place one month after the radio play "House of the Dead".  
> Spoilers: Children of Earth (the whole series), "House of the Dead", "Everything Changes", Doctor Who: "The Parting of the Ways"  
> Disclaimer: All of the characters belong to Russell T Davies and the BBC. I do not own any Torchwood characters or storylines.
> 
> As the author of the story I do not want this posted anywhere else without my explicit permission.

Jack Harkness checked his environmental suit. It was sealed and safe. His recently acquired ship was orbiting a planet with an atmosphere toxic to humans. The proportions matched: 25% nitrosyl chloride, 22% hydrogen chloride, 20% nitrogen, 12% fluorine, 9% hydrogen cyanide, 6% phosgene, and 6% acetone. His suspicions were confirmed when a Throlian contacted his ship to ask why he was there. The shape of the creature was the same: three separate heads on long necks.

Jack Harkness was going to get answers.

"The magistrate has agreed to meet with you, Captain Harkness," the voice spoke over the communicator. "You may land your ship. We have transmitted appropriate coordinates. The atmosphere is not suitable for your species. You must make your own accommodations. A representative will be waiting to escort you. You may carry a firearm, but laser weapons are not permitted."

"Understood," Jack confirmed. He had to rely on instruments to fly the ship, as the air was opaque. He landed, disembarked, and followed the representative through the fog. For eleven orphaned children, an old man, a young man, hundreds of faceless civil servants, an innocent family, and a child with a mother who loved him, Jack was prepared to kill every single one of the Throlians, but he needed to know why first.

The escort led Jack through a door and into a room that sounded large. He couldn't see what it looked like, but a voice, slow and breathy, spoke in English. "Captain Harkness, we do not often allow aliens on our planet. It is my understanding that you have a grievance to address. Please do so now."

"Clement MacDonald," Jack began, his voice steady but laden with rage. "Steven Carter. Ianto Jones. Eleven other children whose names I will never know. Over a hundred innocent humans locked inside a building and poisoned. John, Anna, Holly, and Lily Frobisher. They are all dead or suffering a vile existence because of your species. I want answers."

The magistrate did not answer for a few moments. Finally, they said, "You are angry. But your blame is misplaced. We do not travel to other worlds. We do not harm other species. We keep to ourselves."

"I suppose you can tell me the other species that looks precisely like you and breathes the same air, then?"

"You blame a world for the actions of a rogue group. It is true that those who demanded what many of you were unwilling to offer were Throlian. But it was not us."

Jack tried to control his anger. "A rogue group needed ten percent of Earth's children to get high. Hundreds of millions of children for a rogue group? Must be a huge rogue group."

"These Throlians were attempting to begin a large scale drug trade and thereby gain power on the planet. There are many billions of us on this planet. I am aware of this practice of using human children for pleasure, although it is not legal and makes our species ill. Some even prefer to keep multiple children. We impose harsh punishments on those who do so."

"Will they return?"

"The rogues are all dead. Most were killed by the humans. The few who survived were executed by our government for the harm they caused your people. Your retribution has been exacted. You must move on, Captain."

"Most were killed by me," Jack said coldly. "I killed them. I had to kill my grandson to do it, but I did it. I could kill all of you if I chose to."

"I hope that you will not, Captain. Throli apologizes for the rogues, but there is nothing we can offer you to make up for your losses." The magistrate sighed. "I can sense that you are in pain. As a gesture of goodwill, I shall offer you a process that will remove memories you do not wish to have."

Jack shook his head, saying, "No." How many times had a similar offer been made to him? He had never said yes—not that he could remember, anyway.

"I'm afraid we must rely on your conscience for our safety, then. I cannot assure you a similar thing will never occur again, but Throli does endeavor to prevent its own from harming others. We have failed twice. We will try not to fail the next time."

"What happened to the eleven children?" Jack asked.

"Some were killed. Five were recovered. We are attempting to help them. If we can fix their bodies and heal their minds, we will return them to Earth. Should you desire to transport them yourself, we will contact you when the time comes."

Jack clenched his jaw. "That won't bring back the others."

"No. But it will matter to the five humans."

"I can't take them back. I was the one who gave them away. They won't trust me. Find another way."

"As you wish. Captain, I know you see us all as monsters. I hope, in time, you will heal from your pain and perhaps not despise us so much. I wish you well on your path and request that you limit talking of our planet to others. Do not grieve too long. You have a life to live."

Jack wanted to scream and yell, but he had to believe the magistrate. There was no real alternative. He turned and strode out of the room, letting the escort pass him in order to find his ship in the white fog.

Once he was back in orbit, he set a course. Then he picked up a glass, stared at it for a few seconds, and threw it against the wall. It shattered. He screamed in rage and pain and fear. He broke everything that was in reach, stared at the devastation, grabbed a cushion and wept into it. Seven months since his lover had died, and the pain was so fresh Jack might as well have woken up to an empty world yesterday. One month since he had lost any chance he might have had at getting him back. He could not completely convince himself that it had never been a real possibility. If they had just walked out the door together….

"Why did you leave me?" he sobbed. "Why didn't you come with me? Why couldn't I just keep you? Why didn't you stay in the warehouse? Why did you have to be a goddamn hero with the goddamn box? I just wanted you. Nothing else. I don't want to be a hero anymore. I just want to be with you. I don't want to kill children to save people. I can't…I can't tell myself it was necessary. I don't know if you would. I think you would. I hope you would. I can't live with myself right now, Ianto. And I can't die."

Jack dropped the pillow and stared out at space, black, endless, with pinpricks of light. "Rose!" he yelled. "Change me back. Change me fucking back; I can't live like this. I don't want to live anymore." He dropped to his knees, whispering, "Doctor. Help me." He fell slowly forward, sobbing brokenly, splayed on the floor. He could barely feel the glass cutting his skin.

 

 

Jack woke up the next morning feeling numb and sick. Numb. Yes. Alcohol. Alcohol would help. Alcohol, pretty boys and girls, and forgetting. There was a space station within a few hours that boasted several bars. Jack changed course, trying to ignore the agony of loss. They were dead. They weren't coming back. He was dead.

He was dead, and it didn't matter, because Jack had never loved him, because how could he ever love a fragile, breakable, mortal, beautiful, brilliant….

He was dead.

His body was held somewhere in a UNIT frozen storage facility, and Jack wasn't thinking about him. He was not thinking about Ianto.

He was dead.


End file.
